


No Longer Afraid of Spiders

by ElectricPool, elstarwarslover



Series: The Search for Perfection [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, First Time, Other, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 09:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricPool/pseuds/ElectricPool, https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstarwarslover/pseuds/elstarwarslover
Summary: Satya, Amélie, and an extended stay in a cramped hotel room.  Who knows what could happen?





	No Longer Afraid of Spiders

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been following this series, this does happen chronologically after "The Little Things," and does contain plenty of characterization and plot. If smut isn't your thing, though, I will review all of the relevant details (aka the not-smut parts) in the notes before the next Satya fic.

The first thing Ms. Vaswani noticed about her hotel room was just how dirty is was.  She had expected her business with Talon to be conducted in a five-star locale; after all, that was the norm among wealthy business, was it not?  So to find that she was actually being put up in the furnished attic of a hotel chosen only for its proximity to their target was frankly distressing.

_ Is this how Talon treats all of its potential business partners? _

She looked around for something to clean with: a broom, a mop, anything would have worked, really.  Finding nothing, she decided to (try to) ignore the dust covering every surface of the room and turned her attention to the (blue?) assassin who did not seem to have moved so much as a muscle since Ms. Vaswani had walked in.  She was seated in a wooden chair, looking intently through the scope of her rifle, presumably at the café below.

“Good morning, Ms….?” Ms. Vaswani began, hoping that the other person would finish the sentence for her.  Of course, she knew who it was.  Everyone who was someone knew about the infamous Widowmaker, formerly Amélie Lacroix.  Her indoctrination into Talon’s ranks was both violent and thorough, and whispers about their methods permeated every nonexistent conversation about the organization.  Internally, something about her story hit far too close to home, but Satya couldn’t quite determine what, and Ms. Vaswani would never stoop so low as to express an emotion.  After all, Ms. Vaswani was the pinnacle of refinement, of business, of professionalism.

“Widowmaker,” came her response.  Ms. Vaswani noted that she used her moniker instead of her name, showing an unusual lack of trust for the deal that their organizations were attempting to seal.

“Ms. Widowmaker.  I trust that Vishkar can expect your organization’s support in its future business ventures?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Widowmaker responded, as though that answered the question.  Even now, she had not moved so much as a muscle, which Satya found increasingly unnerving.  Ms. Vaswani did nothing to reveal this, however, and continued.

“Thank you for your time.  And I’m sorry, but that doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

“They didn’t tell you?  All the negotiating is done.  I’m here to eliminate certain… roadblocks to your presence in Oasis, and in return you fund our operations, no questions asked.  As simple as that, or so I’m told.”

_ Damn. _  Satya hated going in without all of the information, and coupled with the fact that the rest of this mission was going so poorly, it was getting increasingly difficult to maintain the cool persona of Ms. Vaswani.  But she couldn’t show any weakness, not now.  So she didn’t.  She opened her mouth to respond, but Widowmaker was already speaking.

“We can, however, have our own  _ negotiations _ if you would like.”  The way she emphasized the word “negotiations” seemed to imply that she meant something other than business, but Satya had no idea what she could be referring to.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”

“Sex, chérie.  If you’re interested.”  Satya nearly choked, and the calm demeanor of her persona as Ms. Vaswani shattered.

“Sex?  Ms. La-”

“Widowmaker,” she interrupted.

“ _ Widowmaker,”  _ Satya corrected through her teeth, “I am a formal representative of the Vishkar Corporation, complete with the power to barter in their name, without their permission or oversight.  For all intents and purposes, I  _ am _ the Vishkar Corporation, and you, you’re trying to- to bribe me?  With sex?”

“I am merely suggesting that it would be an adequate way to spend our time.  After all, with only one bed, we’ll have to get comfortable with each other eventually.  Unless  _ you _ want to sleep on the floor.”

Satya chose not to respond, partially out of anger, and partially because Widowmaker was right.  The room, in addition to looking like it hadn’t been cleaned in months, was almost as small as her dorm back in Utopaea, and with one full size bed taking up most of its space, there was little room for either of them to sleep elsewhere.

Satya sat down on the bed, prompting a cloud of dust to fly up and further agitate her.  Before long, she found herself rocking back and forth, listening to it creak as her weight shifted back and forth.  Once she had calmed down enough to pay attention to her surroundings again, she began weaving light in the room so that it would skim the floor and hopefully pick up some of the dust.  Of course, she did this subtly, so as not to disturb Widowmaker (not that she had shown any signs of being disturbed by anything at all).

After a while, she managed to get the room into some semblance of cleanliness; it would never rival Oasis’s other hotels, and it certainly didn’t sparkle, but at least the dust was now contained within several spheres of light, and Satya could relax without ruining her outfit.  Just to be sure, she slipped off her shoes and socks and tested the ground.  Not feeling any dirt underneath her, she put her shoes to the side, socks safely inside them, and curled up on top of the bed.

The only thing left to do now was wait, and think.  Widowmaker’s proposition had been… well, it was completely uncalled for.  Unexpected, uninvited, unprofessional, unwanted?  Well at the time maybe.  Now, it didn’t seem so offensive.  She was right, after all; they would be sharing a bed.  There simply wasn’t enough space in the attic for another bed, even if hard light was more comfortable than whatever filth this was made of.

Satya wondered briefly if that would be what it took to make Widowmaker stand up.  Even after all of this, she had not so much as turned her face, and Satya was beginning to wonder what she looked like.

“So, what if we did… you know… I mean I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that earlier… and I have been, well, considering your offer… it’s just I’ve never…“ Satya’s voice trailed off.

“Had sex?” Widowmaker finished for her.

Satya nodded in response, then remembered that Widowmaker  _ still _ could not see her, and followed it up with a simple “yes.”  Then, when she didn’t respond, Satya continued.

“Vishkar has very strict rules on fraternization, and they watch me more closely than they watch anyone else.”  Satya paused again, then chuckled.  “I mean it’s not like anyone has shown too much interest in me anyway.”  If she had been intending that as a self-deprecating joke, it failed the moment her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes.  She wiped them off on her sleeve, cursing herself, and looked back to see Widowmaker looking back at her with a mix of confusion and concern.  “Sorry, that was meant to be funny I guess.”

“I don’t understand,” Widowmaker finally responded.  “You look like a beautiful woman to me.”  Satya shook her head.  “Beautiful?”  Satya shrugged noncommittally.  “Woman.”  Satya nodded.  “Ah.  I think I understand.  Well, that at least.  But no one has ever asked to have sex with you?”

Satya shook her head again, then confirmed.  

“No one.”  

Widowmaker stood up and crossed to the bed.  

“Well, it looks to me like they’re missing out.”  Unsure what to make of that, Satya gave a short chuckle, but by her reaction, that was not what Widowmaker had intended.  “I’m serious,” she continued, climbing onto the bed and coming dangerously close to Satya’s personal space.  “You are, and by no means am I exaggerating, the very essence of perfection.”

Satya turned away, in some attempt to hide how deeply that statement alone had affected her.  She felt the bed shift again, and could now feel exactly how close Widowmaker had gotten.  With anyone else, it would have been extremely uncomfortable; in fact, it was more than a little uncomfortable, but at the moment, that was outweighed by just how excited she had gotten.  She turned back to find Widowmaker hovering just above her, still mostly off to one side, but now so close that where she was didn’t matter so much as where they would touch first.  Unable to quite meet her eyes, Satya instead chose to look down at her mostly exposed chest.  Even from behind, it had been apparent that the suit’s designer had had sex on the brain, but just how much that had affected its design was now even more apparent.

“May I kiss you?” Widowmaker asked, almost breathlessly.  Satya felt her own breath hitch as a wave of excitement coursed through her, stopping at all the important places.

“Please,” she managed to squeak out.  Almost immediately, she felt Widowmaker’s lips against her own, and she felt the bed shift as Widowmaker moved to find a better angle.  After a few seconds, she had to pull away, gasping for breath.  She took that moment to get another look at Widowmaker, who did not seem to be having the same problem she did.  Instead, she just gave Satya a little smirk and waited with the same neutral patience Satya had seen before.  Once Satya had finally recovered (or rather, had recovered as much as she could, what with her heart racing as it was), she gave Widowmaker an inquisitive look, hoping that she would just naturally understand Satya’s question.

“Through your nose, chérie.”   _ Of course _ .  This time it was Satya who closed the gap between them, trying to find the rhythm they had been establishing when she broke away last time.  After what seemed like hours, or maybe only seconds—it was truthfully hard to tell with so much going on—Satya moved her feet out from underneath her and shifted towards the center of the bed, pressing her body against Widowmaker’s.  Widowmaker smiled against her, then broke their kiss just long enough to straddle her and bring their lips back together.

In this moment, Satya felt a lot of things, most of which should have been overwhelming.  She felt her own excitement beginning to soak through her panties.  She felt the weight of Widowmaker grinding against her ever-so-slightly.  She felt hands exploring her body, muffled by layers of clothes.  She also felt when those hands stilled, apparently not finding what they were looking for.

“How do you get this thing off?” Widowmaker asked her, sitting up just enough to give Satya room to show her.  Satya obliged by grabbing one of Widowmaker’s hands and pressing it against the buckle next to her left shoulder, then slowly dragging it down the row of internal buttons that kept the dress tight.  Truthfully, it was an awful design, only made worse when Satya was too tired or too stressed to focus properly on getting it put together.  When she was a child, it hadn’t mattered; as long as she followed a relatively loose dress code, she was allowed to wear whatever she wanted.  Unfortunately, when she graduated, Vishkar gave her a uniform to wear for every occasion, most of them far more complicated than was necessary to maintain a professional appearance.

She wasn’t able to focus on that too long, though, as the feeling of the dress loosening around her brought her back to the woman on top of her.  She was following the pattern Satya had shown her exactly, starting by undoing the buckle, then moving down the row of buttons.  When she was done, Satya leaned forward and let the dress fall behind her.  The bra she had chosen was more functional than fashionable by a long shot; after all, she hadn’t expected to be undressed in front of anyone, much less Talon’s point of contact.  It didn’t seem to bother Widowmaker too much, as she reached around Satya, unclasped it, and tossed it aside.

Widowmaker pulled back again, this time with seemingly different intentions.  The act brought back all the self-consciousness that Satya had finally forgotten about.  She brought her arms back to the center of her body, in an attempt to regain some of the coverage she had had just a minute ago.  Before she could finish, though, Widowmaker grabbed her right hand and planted a kiss on it.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.  Satya cursed herself for being so obvious, especially in front of someone who was trained to observe even the most minute changes in the environment.

“Scared,” she admitted.

“Of what?”

“You.”  She saw Widowmaker freeze, caught in a mixture of surprise and fear of her own.  “Not that you’ll hurt me,” she corrected.  “That you’ll, I don’t know, that you don’t really like me, or that now that you’ve seen me half naked you’ll just make fun of me, or that you’re disappointed, or—”

“Chérie,” Widowmaker said, cutting her off.  “I already told you, you are the essence of perfection.  And I still stand by that statement.”

Satya didn’t quite know how to respond to that.  She was blushing again, even if the thought hadn’t quite left her mind.  It was invasive, and domineering, and intrusive, reinforced by decades of abuse at the hands of her peers, and small reassurances did little to stop its tyranny.  But little was better than nothing, and Satya used that little bit of ground to push it back into the corner of her mind, ever-so-slightly weaker than it had been before.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Satya reaffirmed, her voice losing its shakiness.

“Do you want to keep going?”  Widowmaker had resumed the neutral expression she was wearing earlier.  Satya knew that Widowmaker had to have some sort of opinion on the matter; whether it was that she wanted to stop for Satya’s safety, or keep going to sate her own arousal, or any one of a million outcomes and reasons to go with them.  Unfortunately, Widowmaker didn’t look like she was going to reveal that opinion, so Satya had nothing to go on except herself.

“Yes,” she answered after plenty of deliberation.  She was feeling better, and still felt more than a little aroused, so it was the natural conclusion.  Widowmaker relaxed again, then smiled.

“Good.  I was just beginning to think this suit was a little too restrictive.”  She moved Satya’s hand to the neckline of her suit, right where it covered her breast, and indicated that Satya do the same with her other hand.  “Help me take it off?”

Widowmaker herself reached up behind her neck, undid the zipper on her collar, then indicated that Satya should push her hands apart.  As she did, Widowmaker’s suit fell around her in a pile on the bed, revealing what small part of her torso hadn’t already been exposed.

After freeing her arms from the skintight half-sleeves that were keeping her restrained, she stretched, as though waking up from a long night’s rest.  Satya took that moment to appreciate the woman on top of her.  She was, to put it frankly, stunning.  Admittedly, the abnormal color and perpetual cold of her skin were shocking at first, and Satya wondered about the woman she had been in her previous life, but these were things that could not be helped.  No, what was most striking about her was the intense care that she took to stretch every single muscle in her body.  Or maybe it was that she had paid the same attention to Satya earlier.  Or maybe it was the intensity of the gold of her irises that perfectly matched the intensity of everything she did, everything she said.  Or maybe, just maybe, it was the little moans of pleasure she let escape as she began to massage her own breasts.

Regardless, she could no longer help the feelings flooding her body: the knot building in her stomach; the wetness that had soaked through her panties and into her leggings; the irresistible urge to touch and to be touched, to make Widowmaker feel the same things she was feeling.  And so she reached up and covered Widowmaker’s hands, trying to replicate the same movements she had just been watching.  After a second, Widowmaker dropped her hands to grip Satya’s waist, then moved them up to Satya’s breasts and began to mimic the same motions she had been making on herself earlier.

Satya couldn’t see the pattern to it earlier, but she could definitely feel it now.  It was simple, starting on the outside with little brushes against the underside of each breast and squeezes of varying pressure, then moving in, almost in a spiral to tease and play with each nipple.  Then, the pattern continued back outward in the same way it had begun, forming a complete cycle.  It was fitting, and perfect, and on top of everything it felt amazing.

Before too long, Widowmaker pulled back again, then crawled off of Satya to finish taking off the bottom half of her suit.  While she was doing that, Satya scooted down the bed and took off her prosthetic, carefully placing it next to her shoes on the ground.  Although it did have its uses and generally merged seamlessly with the rest of her, in intimate moments it often felt like an intruder of sorts, as though it were the Vishkar corporation itself, watching and condemning her.  So she chose, as she always did, to avoid that discomfort by just taking it off.  By the time she had finished, Widowmaker was completely naked and was kneeling on the bed by Satya’s feet.

She pulled Satya down the bed, gently enough that Satya had time to react yet firmly enough that she was forced to lay all the way back, no longer able to use the wall as a backrest.  Widowmaker then crawled up just enough to grab ahold of the hem of Satya’s leggings, and pulled them off, throwing them haphazardly off of the bed.  The very thought of the intimacy of it all—that nothing separated them, not rules or regulations, not societal expectations, not even something as ubiquitous as clothing—could have been enough to send her over the edge, but Satya fought back against it.  

Instead, she waited as Widowmaker crawled back up again, planting her leg firmly between Satya’s and pressing their bodies together.  Satya waited with baited breath for another kiss, but just when Widowmaker was close enough, she swerved down towards her neck.  She tilted her head away to give Widowmaker a better angle, and was rewarded with a flurry of kisses.  She felt teeth against her and winced when Widowmaker bit down too hard, but soon began to moan again as Widowmaker found the perfect amount of pressure to use.

Widowmaker began to inch back down Satya’s body, planting kisses and hickeys wherever she went, all the while the knot in Satya’s stomach grew stronger and more insistent.  After it seemed impossible for Widowmaker to keep her thigh between Satya’s legs, she replaced it with her hand, resting her palm on top of Satya’s pubic hair and using her fingers to press against her folds.  Satya tried to grind against them, to find any traction with which to give herself release, but Widowmaker only smiled and opened her hand, taking away what little stimulation had previously been there.

“Patience, chérie,” Satya heard from somewhere far away.  “The fun’s just beginning.”

“Fu-” Satya responded, intending to scold the woman before her own moan cut her off.  Even with nothing pressed against her, she continued to move her hips, as though the very act would somehow conjure something to stimulate her while Widowmaker had her own fun in making Satya wait.  This thought compounded itself when Satya felt a breeze on her hips, where Widowmaker’s head had been a moment prior.  She looked down and saw Widowmaker kneeling between her legs, smirking as though to taunt her.

“Now, chérie, is when the real fun begins.”  Widowmaker pushed Satya’s legs wide open and bent down again.  She found Satya’s clit in an instant and began circling it with her tongue in the same pattern she had used earlier, just barely applying enough pressure for Satya to feel every movement.  Widowmaker must have been paying attention earlier, since instead of starting with direct stimulation then readjusting when Satya reacted negatively, she began with barely anything and adjusted up to a more pleasurable pressure.

Once Widowmaker had established a consistent pattern and pressure, Satya felt something enter her and froze at the new stimulus.  After a second, though, she relaxed again, and felt what she guessed was a finger begin to pump back and forth inside her.  Soon after, it was joined by another finger, and the combined stimuli pushed her to the edge.  

Widowmaker must have known this, since both her hand and her mouth slowed down, leaving Satya just shy of orgasm.  Then, when Satya had come back down, she sped up again, bringing her back to the edge.  She repeated this cycle what felt like hundreds of times, or maybe only a handful, before Satya could take it no longer.

“Please,” she begged, “please, please, please…”  She couldn’t quite find the words to express what she needed, but hoped that Widowmaker would understand implicitly, as she had understood so much before.

“Okay, Satya,” Widowmaker said, pulling away just long enough to get the words out.  “Come for me.”  As if to reiterate her point, her tongue and her hand began to work faster and harder, and Satya would have sworn to it that it felt like her fingers had doubled in size.  This time, when she came to the edge, Widowmaker kept pushing, and Satya felt the result in the form of wave after wave of pleasure, flooding her mind and body.  Her back arched of its own accord, and a voice that she recognized as her own seemed to fill the air.

When she came back to her senses, she felt only the lingering movements Widowmaker was making to bring her down slowly.  She looked down in time to see Widowmaker smile at her, then crawl back up and lay down against her side.  She watched as she plucked a stray hair from her lip where it had attached itself, then as she leaned in for another kiss.  She tasted a new flavor in Widowmaker’s mouth, a flavor which she identified as herself.

“You should go get yourself cleaned up,” Widowmaker said, breaking the kiss.  Satya agreed, noting just how sticky every part of her body felt.

“What about you?”  Satya asked, wondering if Widowmaker would feel disappointed by Satya not reciprocating.

“I’ll take care of the sheets.”

“Not what I meant.”  Satya shook her head to emphasize the point.

“Don’t worry; you’ll have plenty of time to pay me back.”

“Okay.” Satya planted another kiss on Widowmaker’s lips, then rolled out of bed, careful not to step on her clothes.

“And don’t forget to pee!” she heard Widowmaker call out from behind her.  “I won’t have you getting a UTI because of me.”

* * *

 

To say that she forgot about her experiences that week would be inaccurate, would be disrespectful to the careful work she put into making sure that she would not, could not forget.  Instead, Satya locked it away in a box in a corner of her mind that she knew Sanjay would never find.  She then moved the key to an entirely separate part of her, so that even if he did find one, he could not find the other.

She knew that he always won, always got his way.  That was what he did.  He was her boss, and he was her captor.  But she took every possible measure to ensure that he would never steal from her the memory of the blue assassin, and the love they shared.  It was fleeting, certainly, but it was passionate, and it was sincere.  And if he didn’t know to look for it, he would pay it no mind.  Even if he did know to look for it, he wouldn’t find it.  And even if he found it, he could never unlock it, never force her to leave behind those memories.

Again, to say that she forgot would be inaccurate, and disrespectful.  For when she left Sanjay’s office, the source of her torment, the one barrier between herself and her true potential, she found a note that she had left herself.  To look for a key.  To look for a box.  And to find, within it, a beautiful memory, untouched by Vishkar’s cruel machinery.  The first memory she could say was truly her own.  And with it, the golden eyes of the warmest woman she had ever known.


End file.
